Honor and Hope
by KingdomHeartsLoverLovesYou
Summary: 30 years after Galbatorix's death, the kingdom seems calm. An unfamiliar land, however, is harvesting a war. Eragon has been captured. A chosen group of his disciples have been allowed to live. The Queen of Alagaësia will not settle for it, not even if it calls for her to summon the help and company of a blistering love that will surely cause her heart to wither away once more.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N;** I tried to write a fan fiction for this series in the past, though I got stuck and now I understand why. The fourth book hadn't been out yet, the plot wasn't working for me, blablabla. Now I present you my attempt to show my interpretation of a future that could happen in the world of The Inheritance Cycle, with my own special twist of fate. I hope you all enjoy. I do not own this series._

* * *

"Tell me, child, have you heard the story of our freedom?"

Though the voice whispered over the fire, it could be heard clear as day on the other side of the gathering. A small child with large eyes and curly hair smiled and shook her head, indicating that she would listen to what the storyteller had to say. When the strange silence settled over those who sat around the small fire, a rather old and wrinkled woman laughed. Her tone was soft and malleable, but underneath it was a raging iron excitement. One could tell without much effort that she would be glad to tell the story.

The travelers, for this was a small town that welcomed them without much question, leaned in as she began to speak once more. "It was not that long ago to us humans, but the elves still sing of it just as vibrantly. Three decades, to be exact. That is how much time has passed since the evil king was vanquished."

Several of the children made noises of awe, and a certain twinkle in their eyes betrayed their clear interest of hearing about the king's downfall. Even some of the adults, save for one, straightened up a bit. The one that kept his position, leaning on his rucksack and keeping his hood over his head, did not move an inch. He knew more about this story than the storyteller most likely did.

"His name was evil in itself, and his soul even darker. They say that his eyes were as pitch black as the oily scales of his dragon. Such hatred in them both, enough to fuel corruption and helplessness throughout all of Alagaësia. We were completely and utterly devoid of all hope that our anguish could be at an end, when suddenly, there came a light."

The speaker moved her hands around the wind as if she were clutching an invisible sphere while staring at the empty space with such wondrous amazement, it was hard to tell whether she truly believed something was there or not. Once her hands fell and her gaze focused once more on the fire, her voice became somewhat lighter in tone and presentation. "There were many that opposed him, but after so long without any one to have faith in, we trusted that he could save us all. With his great blue dragon, he cut down all in his way!"

The covered stranger repressed a scoff.

"There was another, less spoken-of man. He had been a slave of the evil king's will, and slay quite a few men as well. Among the slain men was the dwarf king, Hrothgar, and for that he is referred to as Kingkiller. He was much feared and hated, though after the evil king's own death, he hadn't shown his face since. Some say that he went east, through the desert, though such a place is hard to live. No, I believe he came here, to the north."

The stranger shifted but still did not speak.

"Anyway, these two riders, as the Kingkiller himself had himself a red dragon of a great size, came together many times in battle. Each time, the Kingkiller had bested the blue rider, known as Shadeslayer, and one night, he stole away the leader of a group of rebels in which Shadeslayer lay his loyalty. She was a woman of great power and dignity as well as beauty. You all know her today as our Queen. Queen Nasuada."

"Mere days after her capture, Shadeslayer came with his army of which she used to lead, and stood against the evil king. Many lives were lost, and many of the rebels' allies came to the end of their days. May they rest in peace…" the old woman crossed her arm over her body and spent a moment in silence. The stranger guessed that it was out of respect and he followed suit; seeing that the two were paying their respects, the remainder of those around the fire sat in silence. Even the children, of whom the adults would not have expected to understand the passing sadness and anguish of lives lost, did the special salute, crossing their arms over their chests so that the butt of their wrist would be over their little hearts.

"The Queen of the elves, many dwarves, and many Urgals sacrificed themselves for the good of the rebel's cause. Of the heroes there was the greatest human hero known to date. You all know him as the Earl of Palancar Valley, and as the legendary Stronghammer. They say that because of his love for his wife, he was able to overcome any obstacle in his way. The town he built is not far from here, in fact."

She pointed westwords, and in response, they all looked in such direction; even the motionless stranger.

"As a force, they were too much for the king to handle, and in time, he exploded."

"He exploded?!" one of the little kids exclaimed, their cry of astonishment and disbelief reverberating off of the nearby trees. The adults laughed quietly, though the old woman did not take well to his incredulity. "Yes, child, the evil man exploded. And all throughout the sound and force his essence touched there was poison in the air. There were falling towers, sickened men, and the plaguing emptiness in which his grasp had let go. It took many months for Shadeslayer to break the evil words that bound each city to the evil king, but soon enough it was done, and a peace was spread throughout us. Even the smallest of villages that were furthest from the usurper could feel that there was no more of his evil to touch them. All was well. All _is _well."

"And what became of Shadeslayer?" asked the stranger, though his low voice was met with silence. The old woman looked pained.

"He left Alagaësia, and word has it that he trains the new Riders in another land. He has not shown his face, has not given us any word. The only things he is to send would be the new Riders, and it seems that he will not return."

The group gave off an aura of sadness, though the stranger thought that they should be hopeful. With a man like Shadeslayer to train the new Riders, Alagaësia would be a safer place.

Regardless of his thoughts, he kept quiet. As the camp became tired and they all went to bed, the stranger pulled down his hood and gathered his things. The only reason he had stayed was for the warmth and the food; he felt no need to sleep yet. He tried hard to keep quiet and despite his best efforts, he had managed to wake one of the youngest. She did not speak; merely blinked at him with confused and sleepy eyes. By the light of the fire she could see his face, and right when he thought she would cry out or scream, he placed a gentle finger over her lips.

"You're-!"

"Go back to sleep," he whispered softly, pulling his hood back up. Hopefully the child will have thought their encounter to be a dream, but for good measure, he left all the more quickly. Within minutes he was gone.

The child had shut her eyes, but had not fallen asleep, for the sound of thunder scared her. It was a strange thunder, she thought as she curled into a ball and covered her head with a thin blanket, as it had not been accompanied by a storm. Rather, it sounded like a heartbeat in her ears that shook the ground ever-so-slightly. It was when the thunder faded away that she was able to fall into her dreams once more.

* * *

For such a laborious job, Nasuada felt content.

The afternoon was bright, the people wore smiles, and her kingdom was peaceful. There was not much that made her kingdom unhappy in these days, and the Queen had been teased several times that she was spoiling her people, though she knew it was not true. Her rule had been strict, yet if her subjects followed her rule, they would be rewarded and treated kindly. She wore a smile on her face that caused very slight (yet still visible) wrinkles around her eyes. In her age, however, it was only sooner or later before her looks began to fade into that of an old wise woman.

By her side was Elva, who had taken the form of a young woman in her prime. Though she was more than 30 years old, she didn't look a day over 18. Nasuada had expressed her curiosity one day to the girl, and she explained that it was because of her gift. She would age slowly now that she had reached her maturity. While she was still growing, her rate of aging was well over 50 times the normal point, but once she hit her own version of puberty, the process had been reduced to around half of the normal speed. Though Nasuada was glad to hear that her guardian and treasured friend would not die before she herself began to accumulate wrinkles, she had to admit that Elva's slow age scared her. Would she fare well on her own once the Queen would come to pass? Would she protect the next ruler as well as she had protected Nasuada?

Deep down inside, she knew that Elva knew best. She would do what was right. Or, she believed so.

Among the peace was silence. It was not uncomfortable, nor was it wondrous, but it was something that the ebony-skinned woman had grown used to over her time as Queen. She found comfort in being left to her own thoughts, if only for a spare moment, as her job was a demanding one; one of the most demanding jobs there could ever be. Elva understood this and kept her mouth shut when she could. It was not common for her to speak without reason anyway, though some days she found herself asking the Queen questions that were on her mind. Sometimes they even spoke of trivial things such as the weather, or dreams that they had the previous night. When Nasuada felt troubled by a memory or by fleeting emotions, Elva would calm her down, and in turn the Queen would be the mother that Elva had never gotten. Their relationship could be strained at times, but their allegiance lay in each other.

As the years went by, it became easy to tell if either was troubled, and it was with ease that Nasuada caught the very slight shift in Elva's gaze. The girl was experiencing pain in someone, she knew, though it wasn't as painful as in her youth; it was one thing that Elva had strived to control for the many years of her life, and had succeeded. No longer did she cry out helplessly or vomit with the pain, rather, it was merely a recognition in her sight.

"Elva?" Nasuada inquired, though she received no response. Alarmed, she shook the girl's shoulder, to no avail. "Elva!"

It was after a moment that the young woman could see Nasuada clearly. Her expression was one of true fear, one that Nasuada had never seen on her companion's face, and she whispered a word that sent the blood out of Nasuada's face. Her fingers became ice and she immediately stood, throwing open the doors of her chamber to call for the guards. Already they were running for her room, stopping with sweat on their brow when they announced the arrival of the elf Queen Arya.

Even further down the hall, behind the guards that had relayed the word to Nasuada, said Queen stalked over with an expression that exclaimed both her worry and anger, as well as an untold emotion that Nasuada could not isolate. From outside she heard a great roar; Nasuada felt that in the rumble was a multiplied example of the emotion that Arya had been hiding, and suddenly, she understood.

Once the elf was upon Nasuada, they exchanged greetings of respect and friendship, and immediately began a talk that called for the human Queen to step out of her room and walk down the way that the guards and the other Queen had come from. They spoke quickly and quietly so that no one could overhear, though they both knew that if someone wanted to listen that they would be able.

"He has sent no word for the past months. I should have realized that something was amiss."

"If you felt that something was amiss, why did you not act on your instinct?" Nasuada demanded.

The elf did not let her voice or her face betray the growing anger at the woman's response. "I expected there to be a simple explanation, in which my actions would have been for naught but a cry of wolf. Now is not the time to bicker, Nasuada," she let a small slip of venom to enter her voice, though she did not drag it out.

"You are right," she nodded. "But what are we to do?"

"I would suggest going to fight, but we do not know what is out there. We do not know what has captured Eragon, nor the consequences that would be wrought if we were to go. It seems we are at an impasse…"

"…" an obscure thought crossed Nasuada's mind, but she knew that it could never be, and shook it aside.

"You have an idea?" questioned Arya.

"No."

"Now is not the time to dawdle. If you have any thought whatsoever, then speak it."

"My thoughts simply go to the only capable person that would be fit to set out for Eragon."

A moment's passing let Arya confirm that the person in mind was Murtagh. "He has gone to the north. He wishes not to be bothered."

"I know, I know, it was simply an errant thought."

After many a thought, Arya touched the Queen's shoulder in an attempt of comfort. The elf could sense that Nasuada's thoughts went deeper than errant suggestions, but did not ask, for she believed to know the reason behind them. If Nasuada realized the connection that Arya made, she did not reveal so.

"We must act soon. Call for his students. Tell them to come back," Nasuada said.

"I already have, what ones are still able are flying as fast as they can."

"How many?"

"I cannot say. Four, perhaps, maybe five."

"So few?" dread filled the Queen's voice, as did a hint of helplessness.

"Whatever force took Eragon is not toying around, but seeing as how they captured him, they may have let so few escape. To come here, no doubt, and to drag us out into a fight. It is clear that they are challenging us."

Nasuada paused for a moment, unsure of what to say or even what to think. Before her lay a task of such magnitude that she was unsure whether or not she could come out successful; only once had she done anything close to this, and the Varden's success was not without heavy casualty, even with the help of the elves and Surda. Still, deep in her heart, she knew that they would be better off (even if only slightly) with the help of the red dragon and his rider.

Finally, she said, "We must try and ask his help. His skills may not be as well as your's, but combined, the both of you could help with the apprentice's training once they return. There'll be no time to waste, and we'll need all the time we can possibly take."

Arya hesitated. Nasuada could tell that she was unsure of letting Murtagh into their ranks, and as she spoke, the Queen could hear a small amount of skepticism in her voice, "And what if he chooses not to come?"

"Then I will accept that you will be the only one capable of training the new riders, and trust that you train them well enough to go against the great force that troubles us to the east."

The new silence that fell over them was tense and uncomfortable, though Nasuada knew that it was necessary for the elf to make her decision without any vocal interference. Minutes went by, and right before Nasuada was about to demand an answer, Arya nodded. "Fine, let us call for him."

"And then we wait for the escaping riders," Nasuada confirmed.

"And then we wait."

* * *

_**A/N;** If you all are interested, I could continue it, as the plot I have in mind is very clear. I know that my other projects have gone unfinished, and you'll have to forgive me for that if you read them, but I really do have high hopes for this one. Reviews might encourage me. c:_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N**: Three reviews and follows in one night? Wow, that's a lot more than what I expected. It surprised me so much that I decided to type up and post all that I can today! I have the outline for the next couple of chapters all finished, and all that's left is to polish them up and put them where you guys can read them. Thank you all, really, and keep the reviews coming! C:_

* * *

_'The people do not fear you as they once did,'_ the great red dragon said. Murtagh, on his back, let out a mocking laugh. "Yes, you're hilarious."

_'I am not making a joke,'_ Thorn responded, turning his head back to look at his rider with one eye. _'Did you not hear the awe in the old woman's voice? She was obviously there, and obviously does not hold the thoughts you think most do.'_

There was a minute of silence in which Murtagh could not find the words to say, but wished to negate what Thorn was suggesting. Before he could do such a thing, the dragon continued. _'It has been three decades. You have come up with excuses during each one to explain why you will not go back to the kingdom and reveal yourself to the people. It matters not how long you will live, I feel that you will hide us forever.'_

"Would you like to be the target of arrows across the land? Would you like our faces to be on the 'wanted' posters spread around the trees? No, I am doing this for our safety."

_'Do not lie to me, hatchling,'_ Murtagh winced, hearing poison in his companion's voice. _'What is it that you fear?'_

"I fear nothing!"

_'More lies!'_

The man let out a sigh and refused to speak any more words. They had been in many small arguments over this, and the man did the same thing each time. What he was doing was childish, he knew, but he did not wish to speak of it. It was true that he trusted his dragon, but Murtagh hated exposing any point of weakness when they had been beaten and forced to be nothing but strong in the past.

_'We are not those people anymore,'_ said Thorn in a softer tone.

"I know."

They flew until sunrise, and still Murtagh felt no fatigue. He felt little need to rest excessively in their time in the north. Perhaps this was because he rarely fought another human, and in the times he did, it was only a sparring match or two. The only times he exerted himself were of when he felt so desperate to fight that he would hack off every branch of a tree until it was nothing but a stump of wood coming out of the ground, and even then there was something missing.

In his thoughts of fighting and the heat of battle, he felt a pinprick at the edge of his mind. No one could get through his barriers, that much was true, but it still bothered him. Why would someone be at his mind?

"Land for a moment, Thorn."

The two had been flying over the Ninor River, and by some suggestion, he felt obligated to look into the water. When he did, what he saw not only surprised him, but angered him, worried him, even confused him. It was only an illusion, he said to himself while shaking his head, but the longer he looked into the woman's eyes was added time to how real the experience felt. It was almost as if she were under the water, right out of his reach. Attempting to say something, his lips parted, but she beat him to it.

"It has been a long time, Murtagh."

Her voice hadn't changed, not at all. Except, now it rang with an authority that made him bow his head and acknowledge her as his Queen. She sighed lightly, as if the sight of him saddened her greatly.

"Why have you called me in this way?"

"I request your presence in my castle at your earliest convenience."

"Wait-!"

The vision of her disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared, and at the last moment, he could see that something was bothering her. What it was, Murtagh had no idea, but he knew that he had to be there as quick as he could. No matter what the terms were on his leave, it was clear that something had happened.

He sprang on the saddle atop Thorn's back and the great beast flew off faster than they had been traveling moments before. They did not talk, but there was a certain smugness in Thorn's mind that acknowledged what Murtagh had been afraid of for so long. It had hurt him quite a bit to know that his rider couldn't speak of such matters to him, especially considering that their bond was closer than anyone could hope for in a companion, but he shared understanding at his rider's silence. Thorn himself knew what it was to feel love for something, but being forced away for the better. At this, Murtagh raised an eyebrow, as Thorn wasn't the type to share his feelings either, and he wondered what Thorn could have possibly gone through in order for him to understand.

Whatever the situation was with either of them, they did not speak of it. Thorn increased his speed as the sun rose higher.

* * *

Nasuada gazed out on the horizon; she had guards posted in every direction, awaited the arrival of Thorn and Murtagh. They would be clearly visible, and she did not need so many guards out to watch for him, but anticipation and worry contributed to their positioning. It had been difficult to address the situation without letting on that Eragon had been captured and hurt, and therefore took them a while to be convinced not to hurt them when they appeared, but they didn't seem to put up a fight when she claimed her determination of allowing him into the city.

"Has anyone caught sight of him?" she asked them.

"No, your highness, he is nowhere in sight."

Every couple of hours she would ask again, to which they would give her the same reply. It was at sunset that she began to call back her troops, knowing that they wouldn't be able to see in the darkness, but just as the orange sky was beginning to darken, a great red figure appeared over the horizon. An undeniable smile lit the Queen's face, and she called out the elf Queen Arya as well as the subjects that had come with her. Elva, the witch Angela, Solembum, and many others joined Nasuada in greeting the two.

It took a bit longer than Nasuada would have liked, but before long, he was landing in front of her. The wind created from Thorn's wings was great, and several guards held the Queen so as to steady her and keep her from falling, while the elves had no trouble standing on their own. In the ground was like the beating of a heart; like thunder without the storm, and when it halted there were a great deal of open windows and curious eyes watching from the houses along the streets. Before long, Murtagh was upon the Queen, kneeling before her. "My Queen," he said with the utmost respect he could muster.

He stood and kissed the knuckles on her hand, letting his eyes keep contact with hers as he did so. As he straightened up, she fought to say the correct words, and a moment went by where no one at all uttered a single syllable. That is, until Murtagh smiled and said, "You haven't aged a day."

The dark-skinned Queen laughed and lead him inside the castle, where the wrath of 30 years ago had been all but forgotten. Murtagh liked what she had done with the place; the walls were lighter on his eyes, the colors blended well, and it felt more like a home than a prison. For that, he felt comfortable there, and also in everyone's polite presence was he grateful. None gave him looks of disgust, none ignored him completely, and none acted as he thought they would. He would have put up with it if they had acted in the way he expected them to, of course, but it was nice to relax for a short while.

He could feel that Thorn felt somewhat the same.

"You seem on edge," he told her once her smile had faded. None affirmed or negated his speech, so he continued. "Has something happened?"

"We are in need of your assistance," she had addressed them both. "A situation has crossed us that you must tell no one of, are we agreed?" the two nodded.

"Eragon has been captured, as well as his riders in training. The elves, Saphira, and the entire land has been taken under the command of an unseen force. We do not know what this force is, but it is strong enough to enslave all of the land that Eragon has been on for these past years. It is clear now that they are challenging us, as they let his newest group come back, but they are not as experienced as they need to be to enter a battle such as this. I ask of you, as well as Arya, to work together and to train these new riders so that they may enter battle and free their comrades and teachers."

Before Murtagh could reply, she added, "I will gather as many forces as I can, as will Arya, so that our army can train and be ready to save them. Please, Murtagh, I ask of you to help us. You are the only human who matched Eragon in battle, and we need that much strength plus very much more to even hope to come out the victor."

"Not all are as forgiving or polite as in your court, my Queen," he eventually said. "If I fight and train within your ranks, who is to say that they will not take you as a traitor? I killed the dwarf's king. I killed many others. I kidnapped you, if your memory does not recall it, and I tortured you in these chambers. No, it is best if I refuse."

"Then you are sentencing all of Alagaësia to death!" she exclaimed, and Murtagh was speechless. "This enemy, whatever it may be, is strong. We have no hope if we do not have you!"

"That is where you are mistaken, my lady. Queen Arya is a mighty warrior, as well as her elven army. You will do good in her care."

"I have many duties that will not leave me, no matter what the call of war begs of me. I cannot dedicate all of my time with these new riders," Arya explained in her calmest demeanor. "You are needed, Murtagh Morzansson."

He paused, thinking hard about the choices ahead of him. Unsure, he proposed, "If this entity is so strong, then we may all die anyway."

"It is better to die trying than to give up completely."

A great sigh left him, almost with a persona of exasperation, though his eyes looked more confused and concerned than angry. "I am honored that you asked this of me," he started off, "But I need some time to think."

"Of course," the Queen nodded.

Him and Thorn spoke quickly, back and forth, until well past midnight. Everyone was asleep by then, and Murtagh knew that he could fly away if his decision was still no; he stayed, however, and in the darkest part of the night, Elva went to see him. Wary of the woman, he closed his mind, though he knew that her magic would work differently than most magicians.

With a few words, Murtagh's eyes widened and his back went rigid. Not in pain, but in understanding of the situation and what was at stake. By the time Nasuada caught up to her, for she only realized Elva had left her room after she heard her door open and shut, Murtagh was already standing and thanking the young-looking woman.

"Elva," Nasuada scolded. "Murtagh is free to go or stay. It is not within your duty to convince him of either," lowering her violet gaze, Elva stepped past Nasuada and went back to her room without another word. "I am sorry, Murtagh, I did not mean for her to come and interrupt your thoughts."

"No, all is well. I will fight with you," his voice was filled with a certain resolve that had not been present when he had arrived.

A half-smile came on the older woman's face, "If you say the same in the morning, I'll make your claim official. Sleep, Murtagh, for there is much to do in the morning."

* * *

_**A/N**: Just so that you guys know, I was originally intending for this chapter and the next to be one large chapter, but it got to be too long, and I split it off here. Hopefully I'll have the next part up later today, and if not, then hopefully tomorrow. Reviews are much appreciated!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N**: So, here's the second part to the last chapter. Hope you all enjoy._

* * *

The elf Queen sifted through the numerous papers she had brought with her to Ilirea, convinced that there had to be some kind of hint to what had captured Eragon. All he spoke of were his riders, however, and of their abilities. Her only lead was his last letter, speaking not only of his newest recruits, but also including the one line that betrayed any emotion whatsoever. The entire letter read:

_**Arya**,_

_My riders have been faring well, save for my newest group. It doesn't seem like they are learning very much, though I am trying very hard, and hope to help them grow into fine warriors. The five of them do not work as well as I would have liked them to, but they have not been working long and I stand by my statement that in time, they may be great. They can fly faster as well as swing a sword much quicker than my other groups, and that I can use as a foundation. I am happy that the elves, as well as the Eludanrí, are here to help me. I miss you._

_-**Eragon**_

She frowned. It was not like him to say such things; in his other letters to her, which numbered close to 100, he had never spoken of his gratefulness or of his emotions towards her nor anyone else. Other than those letters, she had only one note to see that he had been in trouble; a single sheet of paper with two words in thinly written ink, indicating that he had written it quickly. The paper was ripped and burnt around the edges, suggesting that he sent it to her in a hurry, and her certainty of this could be shown in the fact that he did not send it through conventional means. No, Arya was sure that he had sent it to her in the same way that she had sent him Saphira's egg in the Spine so many years ago.

It read: "Help us"

Her gaze had been fixed on the paper until three other elves came into her peripheral vision. They looked ready to fight, which was a good thing, but sometimes Arya thought about how they could fall under her command, and it saddened her until she willing the thoughts away. "Yes?"

"We have received word from the riders, and they will be here in six days."

"So soon?"

"It seems so, Queen Arya."

They left her presence and she took a breath of air on the outside balcony nearby, remembering that she had contacted the riders four days before, and that they started their journey then. Would it really take them ten days to go from lands unknown to the capital of Alagaësia? Such a feat should be acknowledged, Arya decided, and would suggest to Nasuada that they both throw a feast for the arrival of their new apprentices. She would include Murtagh in the feast, knowing that he deserved it as well as any other rider.

After that, however, Arya did not know how they would fare. If they were just as Eragon suggested they were, then her job was going to be quite hard, and even more so if Murtagh did not accept Nasuada's plea.

Sunlight streamed on her face and she closed her eyes, content with letting the sun bathe her, if only for a moment. She had been so used to the cold of Ellesméra, the heat and warm wind of Ilirea felt as a luxury to her. Several moments later, a dark-haired man came into her presence, his scent that of wild trees and the frigid cold of the north. Arya recognized it as Murtagh without turning to look, and she asked him, "Have you made your decision?"

He answered immediately, creating a sort of comfort within the older elf. "I have."

"You will stay and fight, then?" her royal gaze switched to him, a single eyebrow raised.

"I will."

"Very well," a pause. "we will have a feast in your honor, and in the honor of the arriving riders. They will be here in six days. Until then, I would advise not leaving the city."

A single growl was heard, followed by a much deeper one, both coming from the same area in the outside courtyard that lay not-too-far from the castle. There were several shrieks of alarm, sending both the elf and human sprinting towards the danger.

There was a large blob of green and red tangled together in the middle of the courtyard, wrecking benches and stone tables alike. Humans that had otherwise been relaxing there had long ran off at the sight of the dragons, and even faster once they began to fight. Murtagh, alarmed, attempted to reach Thorn with his mind and tell him to stop attacking the other dragon, but his companion was completely focused on the smaller creature. To his surprise, Arya was doing nothing.

"You aren't going to do anything?" he asked with a worried expression on his face.

"They aren't fighting. Look closer," she pointed at the green dragon. "Fírnen is not attempting to bite Thorn, merely trying to be the dominant one."

"Fírnen? Of whom does this dragon belong?"

"To I."

He nodded in understanding and watched the two fight for a few more minutes, just as Arya was, though after a few minutes he asked, "Would it be safe for me to leave?"

"Yes, I will keep an eye on them for the time being. They seem to be excited to see another dragon. Fírnen has only seen one before, and it has been a long time for them both."

"Indeed it has. I must speak to Nasuada, however, have you any idea where she is?"

"Aye, she should be in the room next to her throne."

* * *

He had not ran and he had not dawdled as he made his way to the room beside the throne, of which two guards stood in front of and did not spare Murtagh so much as a glance when he came into their presence. The door was slightly open, though he couldn't hear anything coming from inside.

"I request Queen Nasuada's presence."

"She is busy at the moment, you may come back in the eve-"

"Let him in, Nenst," Murtagh heard her voice from inside the room. The two guards slowly stepped away from each other and allowed Murtagh to open the door and enter. Nasuada stood in the middle of the floor, wearing a blue, lightweight dress that allowed for easy movement. In her right hand was a thin sword, which he guessed was rather lightweight, as she seemed to be handling it without much effort. On her left forearm was a wooden shield, and on her brow was beading sweat that proved her fight to have gone on for most of the morning.

She had paused to greet him, but other than that, did not speak another word. It was most likely because she was busy fending off the hulking man in front of her, attempting to hit her with increasing efforts. Murtagh resisted the urge to break up the sparring match, but let his palm rest on the hilt of Zar'roc, just in case.

Nasuada moved with surprising ease, as if her body were fluid; as if time had not touched her bones or muscles as they did the wrinkles around her eyes and the several gray strands in her hair that would be sure to multiply in the coming years. It then occurred to him that even though he was older than she, it was her that would be transformed by time, not him. He would live for as long as he could stay alive, and she would not. She would die soon, and he would not. She was mortal, and he was not.

How brutal it felt to be capable of loving something death could touch without the help of a knife or poison.

It was with a troubled gaze that he watched the two go back and forth; it was not hard to tell that the soldier was not fighting to his best ability. Once their match was over, Nasuada panted lightly and gave Murtagh a tight smile. "I take it you've made your decision?"

"Yes, and I choose to stay."

"Thank you, truly. I didn't expect you to come, but…" she trailed off. He tilted his head, wishing that she would finish her sentence, but she never did.

"Have you had your fill of sparring for today? It might be good to face a new opponent once in a while," he suggested, unsheathing his sword. The smile on his lips was friendly but challenging, and in response, Nasuada held her own sword up in a defensive manner. They circled each other for a minute or two before he jabbed at her elbow; she dodged before he thought she would and pushed him back with her shield, throwing him slightly off course. Stumbling back half a step, he parried her following blow and swung a wide arc for her shoulder, which she successfully blocked and countered.

Back and forth they went, never landing a blow and never missing the opportunity to dodge or block each other's attacks. Murtagh couldn't say that she was a match for him if he truly meant to harm her, but for now, her movements were sufficient.

While they dodged and parried, he could see all of her weak spots and realized how easy it would be for him to hit her without meaning to; knowing this disgusted him to his very core, as he would never mean to hurt Nasuada, but she was not the fighter that he was. She was not ravenous for blood, nor was she merciless or steadfast. This was why he stopped, taking a step back and declaring the spar over.

"A tie," he announced, though she didn't seem satisfied. "Don't make that face," he raised an eyebrow at her pout.

"I am not a weak old woman," she answered.

"I say no such thing of you."

"Then why will you not fight me?"

They were already nearby each other, and with one stride he came closer, sheathing his sword all the while. It came to mind that he was an entire head taller than her, the top of her hair meeting his chin. Placing a careful, calloused hand on her cheek, he spoke with a low voice so that no one could hear. "I will never hurt you again, not even if it meant giving up everything I've ever known."

And with that, he stalked out of the room, leaving Nasuada to feel the ghost of his hand still upon her cheek.

* * *

Nasuada heard a knock at her door, though she was hesitant to answer it. If it were Murtagh, she would not know what to say, though she knew that it couldn't be anything demeaning to him. She needed him to stay and help, no matter the cost of her pride, and no matter how much she disliked being treated as an inferior. Even if it was from the deepest pits of his heart that he stopped their afternoon spar, she still did not like being treated as weak; even when he wanted nothing more than to keep her from being hurt.

She laughed at herself, for she realized how ironic her thoughts were.

Another knock dispersed her thoughts and she flung the door open, now without reserve, only to catch the eye of a rather amused elf woman in her doorway. "Something funny?"

"No, I was only laughing at myself. Please, come in."

Moving on, Arya proposed, "We should have a feast in the honor of the riders that are to come to us, as well as Murtagh."

"Ah, but of course! And for you as well, Arya."

"I could not ask so much of you for myself-"

"No, I insist. You have come all the way from Ellesméra, and have agreed to fight alongside us. For that, you and your people deserve to relax and celebrate our coming together. I have also sent word to the dwarves, Urgals, and to Surda. I contemplated contacting the Wandering Tribes, though I haven't yet."

"…Thank you, Nasuada. Your kindness is sobering."

"In times such as these, I cannot afford to be cruel."

Arya nodded in understanding, and then a very small, almost invisible smile lifted her lips. It was a fraction of an inch, and it barely touched her eyes, but it was the smug look of a cat that was expecting a large tub of cream at her disposal. "…What?" Nasuada asked, wondering what was on the elf's mind.

"The rumors have begun already."

The Queen blushed and looked down. "I do not know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do not," Arya shrugged. "and I know better than to believe rumors, but their words are consistent, and they spread like wildfire…"

"For goodness sake, what did they say?"

"Your guards seem to be under the impression that you have a hidden romance going on with our newest ally."

"You mean Murtagh?"

The elf Queen nodded.

"Such silly words," the dark-skinned woman swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

"If you harbor any feelings for him, then maybe you are in a simple state of denial-"

"You are excused, Queen Arya."

After a moment, the elf bowed her head and walked out of the room. When she had one foot out the door, however, she turned and spoke one more sentence. "The riders will be here in six days, and King Orrin will be here in two."

Nasuada was left to her thoughts.

* * *

_**A/N**: Okay, I know that a lot didn't happen in this chapter, but from here on out, the drama's gonna get heavy. I won't be able to make my next update for quite a few days, but I'll be working on the outlines for the upcoming chapters for you guys! Wow, two updates in a day. It sounds a lot easier than it really is, hah. Anyway, you can bet your butts that I'm gonna include some heartbreak, jealousy, corruption, and all that good stuff (including some death and _maybe_ some happiness at the end if you guys are good to me) in the rest of the chapters. Hopefully they'll be longer too! Reviews are appreciated~._


End file.
